Last Moments
by StylingEquinox
Summary: *SPOILER* A story about Irial and Niall's last moments together in Darkest Mercy before Irial dies. Will include sequences from their dreamscape. Includes guy/guy love, so readers beware. Rated M for what may be included later.
1. Chapter 1

**So I'm finally doing it! -Writing a story about the Dark Kings' last moments together. Darkest Mercy hit me hard when I read those particular scenes (even though there were too few IMO), and I especially wanted to read more about how they spent their time in the dreamscape as Irial struggled through his illness. So as a result, I've chosen to write what I think happened (or at least a possibility).**

**I give a special thanks to the anonymous poster who suggested the idea in his/her review for _Unending Night_! I don't know how long this will be, but I don't expect it to exceed 5 chapters, if that. It's Niall's POV at the moment.**

**I don't own Wicked Lovely, Melissa Marr does!**

**PLEASE REVIEW!**

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It had only been a couple of days since Bannanach attacked Irial, and Niall could already see signs of illness overcoming his former King. Irial was now bedridden, for any attempt to walk had proved futile; several times Niall had rushed into the room to find Irial collapsed on the ground, attempting to feign wellness, even in such a weak state. Since then, Niall decided that he would be by Irial's side the entire time, never letting him out of his sight.

Though it pained Niall deeply to have see Irial that way, suffering slowly. _Alone._ With Niall unable to prevent it. _And able to taste his pain as it happens._ No amount of fear instilled in healers gave Niall the answer he was hoping to hear: good health and longevity.

Time was Niall's enemy, not the poison that coursed through Irial's dark veins. It frightened Niall above all else, made him believe in a concept fey never once considered; mortality. And God did Niall feel selfish for having wasted it. Regrets flooded him every waking hour, thoughts of have-nots and should-haves and nostalgia for the past. _Why did I push him away all these years? Why now? Why must I lose him now? What have I done?_

And every time fear overwhelmed him, Niall would fight the urge to break down in tears and weep, the anxiety in the pit of his stomach weighing him down. But he wouldn't cry- _not in front of Iri_. He needed to be strong for him, strong for both of them. _And for the Court. _Despite his martyred state, Irial tried his best not to show weakness, refused to give Niall a clear indication that he was ill. His strength was a testament to his will, and Niall admired him for it. And if Irial hadn't yet given up hope, then Niall wouldn't either.

Niall glanced over at his advisor for the umpteenth time today, his stomach churning with sadness. Irial's breathing was even, despite its slow irregularity, and he appeared to be sleeping, his long, black lashes brushing his cheeks. If not for the eerie pallor cloaking his skin that betrayed his illness, one might assume he were at ease. Niall, on the other hand, knew better. He'd been dealing with the aftereffects of Bannanach's poison for days now, and he knew what it was intended to do.

_Take him from me._

Niall turned his head away from Irial, unwilling to think about that. Instead, he tried to focus on the their world outside of the madness, the dreamscape they'd conjured for themselves where no one feared uncertain death or loneliness, but pleasure and companionship. In their world, Niall was free of everything that plagued him, and he spent that freedom with the only faery he ever loved, the faery who Niall would now care for in sickness and in health.

Niall stepped away from the wall he'd been leaning against and quietly approached the former Dark King's bed. His fingers trembled as he ran a thumb along Irial's graceful mouth and along his cheek. When Irial's once-brilliant-but-now dull eyes lazily opened, dread formed in the pit of Niall's chest.

"Gancanagh", Irial whispered, his voice hoarse. A smiled tugged at his lips.

Niall attempted to smile back at him, his eyes trying hard not to focus on how unwell Irial appeared.

"What did you dream of?" Niall asked quietly, taking his seat beside his King on the bed. It was a question he asked everyday, and despite its repetitiveness, he deemed necessary to ask. _I don't want to miss a single moment with him._

"I dreamt of you." Irial's black gaze was direct and filled with affection as he spoke. "I always dream of you."

Niall stroked his cheek, his eyes softening "I know." Then he asked the question he dreaded the most, the question he'd asked for days despite knowing the answer: "How are you feeling?"

Irial's smile faltered, the expression not touching his eyes. Niall tasted fear and bitter sadness. Irial shook his head and sighed. "Niall, don't-"

"Please", Niall bit out, his voice harsher than he intended. "Tell me."

Irial's black gaze met his directly, his voice unwavering despite his appearance. "You already know, love."

Niall's throat felt thick, his body numb, his eyes blurry. He reached for Irial's hand, enclosing it with his palm, intertwining their fingers. Irial smiled back at him, his eyes aglow with affection.

As if seeing the affect his words had on Niall's port, Irial tried to make amends. _He always does. _"Don't worry, Gancanagh", he murmured. "I'm still here. Always."

The truth in his words made Niall forget how to speak for the time being. Instead, he leaned in and brushed his lips over Irial's and stroked his sweat-slick hair back from his face. Then Niall touched foreheads with his advisor, inhaling his scent. Tears misted his eyes.

"I know."

_We have now_, Niall thought quietly, his hand tightening on Irial's. _And we have our dreams. Nothing will take him from me._

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	2. Chapter 2

**So here's chapter 2. It's been haunting me all day, asking to be written, so here it is. It's Irial's POV, so I hope you like it. I'm still indecisive about the length of the story, but it will at least be 3 chapters. This chapter has some M rated things, so take heed. Enjoy! Thanks for the _REVIEWS_ and please continue reviewing!**

**Melissa Marr own Wicked Lovely!**

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Irial could smell flowers. Heathers and roses and holly trees. He could sense the warm summer breeze blowing through his hair. See a grassy knoll and an even greener plain that stretched for miles. The sky was alight with clouds peeking over the horizon. Sunlight bathed his skin.

In that moment, he felt warm, cozy, at peace; everything he hadn't been in the days since he'd fallen ill. At least when he'd been awake. Here, in his dreams- _Niall's dreams_- he was almost free. His strength was still depleted, but he felt less weak than he did in reality. And that was an improvement at least.

The dreamscape was the product of his mind and of Niall's. Memories from long ago, forgotten or stowed away painted the scenery in which they lived. Sometimes eras were mixed as thoughts intertwined, creating a world uniquely their own. Currently, Irial was imagining a memory from very long ago, a grassy field in northern Scotland where he and Niall spent their time gazing at the sky. There was a distant castle somewhere in sight, though its stonewashed walls did not detract from the beauty of the landscape; they enhanced it.

Irial inhaled the fresh air, his lungs relishing the gust of sweet wind as it swept his hair. He lifted his face towards the sky, staring past the clouds, thinking of the place mortals called heaven, and considered where he would end up when he was gone. But seeing as fey didn't have afterlives, he knew the choice wouldn't be his to make.

_Not that I'd go there anyway_, he thought. Irial did not view himself as evil, nor did he see himself as saintly, but he had a feeling that places such as heaven did not welcome his sort, which comforted him to an extent. _I don't need pity._

The sound of approaching footsteps discontinued is morbid thoughts and made him look to the space of greenery before him. His King was walking towards him, the long strands of grass brushing his knees.

In the golden sunlight, it was almost easy to forget that Niall was the Dark King. His mahogany locks fell haphazardly along his handsome face, the sun illuminating the red and copper tones of his hair. Niall also appeared to be faintly glowing, despite the shadows that still clung to him in the dreamworld. In all his glory, he was beautiful to Irial. He always had been. Inside and out.

So it pained Irial to see the sadness in his eyes as they met in the grassy field, his face somber even in his dreams.

Irial stepped up to his King, a hand outstretched to touch him. With a sad smile, Niall accepted, his grip firm despite his wavering emotions. Then they proceeded to walk through the field, the grass swaying all around them with each step.

"This is a nice memory", he murmured to Irial, stopping to admire the brook he spotted just beyond the trees. "I remember lying here beneath the moonlight. My hair always got entangled with grass", he noted with a small laugh.

Irial smiled back at him. "Yes, indeed it did."

Niall stopped walking then, his face suddenly serious. "What made you choose it?"

Irial walked over to a nearby heather bush and snagged a flower. He rolled the pink bud in his palm. "Because it reminds me of you, of the happiness we've shared over the years. This was one of your favorite places, if I recall."

Niall nodded. "It was. It still is."

Irial grinned. "Then I was just in choosing it." He approached Niall, his eyes warm as he ran a finger along his cheek. Niall opened his mouth to say something, but Irial brushed his lips against his for reassurance. "I only want you to be happy."

Niall pulled away from him, his brows pulled together. "Don't say things like that, Iri."

Irial frowned. "Why not? It's how I feel."

"But you shouldn't feel that way. You're sick, Irial, not me. You should put your own happiness about all else. Not mine." The pained look in Niall's eyes made Irial falter.

He clasped Niall's hand again, his eyes sincere as he said, "You are my King, Niall. My friend. My beloved. How can I not put you first?"

There was a moment of silence in which Niall refused to meet Irial's gaze, and then the words that escaped his lips where barely a whisper. "I can't lose you."

This was what Irial had feared; Niall's dependence on him would weaken his King and their Court. _And no one needs that when I'm gone. _Irial's expression was stern as he fought though the pain in his words. "You need to let me go, Gancanagh. You'll hurt less if-"

"No", Niall snarled, his eyes alight with anger. "I will not sentence you to an early deathbed."

"I can't recover, Niall. Please, see that." The blunt words he'd spoken were hard to admit- _even to myself-_ but they needed to be said. Niall was too stubborn to comprehend anything else.

The grief that washed over Niall's face at that moment, however, made Irial regret speaking the truth aloud. His King abruptly turned away from him, his jaw taut. Irial saw his eyes brim with dark tears that he refused to spill. "I won't accept that", he hissed, his voice shaking. "I can't accept that."

Despite the leg pain that walking incited, Irial approached his King with saddened eyes, his hand gripping his forearm. "But you must. If you don't you'll never be at ease. Nor will the Court."

Suddenly Niall spun around, shrugging off Irial's hand with a glower. "I'm done talking about this."

Irial glowered back at him, all softness gone. "I'm not. And neither are we." For a long while the two of them glared at one another in a silent standoff, Niall's emotional cocktail of hurt and grief burning Irial to his core, flooding him. The tense atmosphere was only broken when Irial had to sit and rest, the pain from the poison weakening him and making it hard to stand. Niall caught Irial as he staggered backwards, his hands firm but gentle as he laid him down onto the soft grass.

After a moment, Niall took rest beside him on the ground, staring up at the cloudy sky, his eyes vacant. Irial rolled onto his hip, watching the bleak expression on his King's face, wanting to smooth the harsh lines. Instead, he ran his fingers through Niall's soft hair, running his hand along his stern jawline and angelic features, ghosting along his scar. Niall finally turned his head in Irial's direction, his still sad eyes warming slightly as he met Irial's gaze.

Turning on his hip, Niall fully faced Irial, his finger tracing over Irial's eyelids and mouth as Irial had done to him moments ago. Except Irial saw fear in Niall's face as Niall touched him, as if this touch would be his last. _As if he might lose me tomorrow._

Caressing Niall's arm, Irial whispered, "No matter what happens, you'll never lose me, Gancanagh. I will always be a part of you." Intertwining their fingers, Irial moved closer to Niall, his lips running along his King's throat. "You were always mine. And I yours."

Niall hesitantly caught Irial's lips in his own, his thumb running along his cheek as they consumed each other. Niall's eyes misted with unshed tears as he tasted Irial's lips, and Irial pretended not to notice.

Niall began to gently run his fingers along the bottom Irial's shirt, his hand teasing the warm skin underneath. Then Irial gasped as Niall's hand traveled lower, quickly undoing the buckle of his trousers, slipping to the hot, aching skin below. Irial moaned complacently as Niall stroked him, Niall's mouth on his throat.

Niall stopped to gently slide Irial's shirt from his shoulders, making sure not to graze the dark wound that rested on his stomach. Niall's lips lightly left kisses along his body, licking a subtle path from his chest to his hips, where he proceeded to take Irial whole, the slick friction of his mouth making Irial numb with pleasure.

Irial felt his hips buck, his body hot with the promise of release as Niall pleasured him thusly. He bit his lip as Niall took him deeper, his hand and his mouth working as one to make Irial arch his back in pleasure. With shaky fingers he rubbed Niall's hair for support, the breathy gasp he let out echoing in his ears. With one more stroke from Niall's hand, Irial felt himself coming, his body tensing for release. In that instant, euphoria washed over him like fresh rain, his breathing labored and indistinct. The cool grass tickled his hot skin.

Afterwards, Niall completely removed Irial's pants, then proceeded to remove his own clothes, his eyes thick with lust. He fervently tasted Irial's lips again, his body lowering on top of Irial's with a grace that Irial admired. Niall quickly grabbed one of Irial's thighs in his hand and hitched it higher up his waist, their hips pressed together. The breathy gasps Niall made as they moved together made Irial yearn for the past, when they would pleasure one another in every way they knew how.

Finally, Niall broke away from the kiss, pulling his head back to look at his former King. "Are you sure?" he panted, his breaths uneven.

Irial nodded, his eyes clouded over with lust as Niall kissed his neck. "Yes."

Then, with a strained effort, Niall pushed himself inside of his former King, a cry escaping them both. As Irial adjusted to Niall's girth, he was reminded of how well endowed his Gancanagh was, and despite the slight pain in his body, he felt even hungrier for him now. _I'll never forget this feeling_, he thought as Niall began to move deep inside of him.

The moan that escaped him wracked his body, his vision blurring as he gazed into Niall's abyss-like eyes, as he observed the blue sky and grass all around them. The world began to shift according to his mind then; the clouds dissipated, the sky darkened to night, a star-covered realm shone overhead, bathing them both in moonlight.

Niall's rhythm was perfection, hitting every white spot inside of him, removing all of his fears and worries, opening him for Niall to see clearly. And when Niall embraced him, pulling him closer for their mouths to meet, Irial felt one with his King. With each thrust, Irial was closer to heaven, closer to euphoria, closer to Niall. He bared all he was feeling; regret, sorrow, love, admiration. He didn't want to hide any part of himself from his King, his beloved. Who, with apt determination, was had taken care of him this past week more than anyone ever had in all his existence.

Staring into Niall's eyes, Irial's body was on fire. With each movement, he was losing his grip on the dreamscape around them. And as Niall quickened his thrusts, the world spun. Irial let out a mewl as pleasure overtook him.

"Ahh… My King", he cried, his back arching slightly.

With a throaty moan, Niall reclaimed his lips again, his tempo increasing until Irial was squeezing his back and Niall was gripping Irial's thigh. "Iri", he breathed.

Then the world suddenly went black as an orgasm rippled through them both, a cry escaping their lips in unison.

For a time immeasurable they just held one another, the effects of what they'd just done still reverberating through them. Then Niall pulled away slightly, small pants escaping him as he lay on the grass, staring at the shining stars. Moments later, Irial pulled him to his body, Niall's head resting on Irial's shoulder, arms around his waist. They held each other as closely as they were able.

As Niall stared up at the stars, his breaths slow, it became abundantly clear to Irial why Niall feared Irial's passing, why he would give anything he could to prevent it; Irial was Niall's other half, despite their differences. And Irial knew it. _Were I in his position, I'd feel the same way._

Instead of dwelling on the inevitable, Irial stroked his Gancanagh's hair and gazed at the stars with him. _I'll always be with you_, he willed to Niall, even though his King couldn't hear. _Never forget that._

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	3. Chapter 3

**So, here's the next chapter of Last Moments. It's Niall's POV. There isn't much I have to say about this chapter for fear of spoiling, except for the usual: Please REVIEW! I'm still indecisive about the story's length, so reviews help me think about the progression of the story and on general opinion.**

**On that note, I don't own Wicked Lovely. But I loves me some Nirial!**

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When Niall awoke, Irial was still asleep in bed as he had been before; his head resting uneasily against the Victorian pillows behind him, his hands folded neatly over his torso. His skin almost cadaverous.

_Like a corpse. _Bile rose in Niall's throat as he considered what that meant for Irial, considered the unthinkable pain he would face were Irial to perish. And as much a Niall didn't want to think about those grimly possibilities, he had no choice.

Despite the short-lived peace they'd found in their dreams, Irial still looked sickly and unwell. He wore a deathly pallor as he slept, his pale skin flushed with the sweat of a fever, his brows pinched as if he were in pain. Hollowing cheeks jutted from an otherwise stunning face.

The poison, whatever it may be, was slowly eating away at him, slowly making him weaker by the hour. And Niall knew that it would be only a matter of days before he'd be alone.

_Without Iri._

Niall shook his head, unwilling to think about life without his former King, unwilling to entertain the thought of Irial gone. He simply would not have it. With resolve, he sat upright, his gaze drifting to the faery lying beside him.

_I will find a way to fix him._

Niall stood up softly, so as not to wake him, and reached for the basin of water at Irial's bedside. It had become a habit of his to dampen the cloth and run its coolness over Irial's face, hoping to ease the fever.

Niall focused on Irial's steady, but slow heartbeat as he wrung out the wet cloth, acutely aware of the life it emitted, no matter how small.

For many moments, that was all that Niall heard; the sound of dripping water as he dipped the cloth into the basin and Irial's gentle, reassuring heartbeat. The melody of both is what kept Niall sane- the repetition. _Dip, remove, wring, repeat._ The temporary reprieve the mantra gave his mind since Irial had fallen ill was something to be worshipped.

Except in the waning candlelight, Niall found himself crying instead of rejoicing, dripping black tears into the clear, crystal bowl. Forced to look at his desolate reflection.

Black, inky eyes stared back at him, reminding him of his weakness, reminding him of how selfish he was being when there was a true martyr resting beside him. He had no right to cry when Irial was the one who was obviously in pain, who had willingly taken the blade of another as a sacrifice.

Who was Niall? His distraught lover who had yet to find him a cure for his sickness. Who had gotten no real sleep within the past week for fear of waking up without his beloved.

Distressed, Niall dropped the cloth into the water, afraid to see how lost he'd become in the reflection of a small bowl. Stepping away fearfully, he was startled when Irial's strong, but quiet voice interrupted him.

"Niall, are you alright?"

Wiping the tears from his eyes, Niall approached the former King's bed. "You should rest, Irial. You need your strength. Worry not about me."

Irial turned his head away, his dark eyes glaring with what little strength he had. "Do _not_ tell me to do that. You are all that I worry about."

Niall shook his head, unwilling to argue with Irial over the subject. "Will you just let me take care of you?" he sighed. "I cannot simply watch you waste away."

Irial's tired, overlarge eyes met his, as if seeing into his soul. "Niall, what is done cannot be undone. Despite what you may think, I regret nothing."

Fighting back the tears in his voice, Niall said, "Why must you be a martyr, Irial? Do you not think that you deserve a life?"

"I've lived many lives, Niall, some of which I am not proud of, but I don't regret my decisions. I cannot." Then his eyes softened as he took in Niall's barely-steady form. "Some of them led me to you."

As Niall stared into Irial's sadly resolved, yet sincere face, he felt a piece of himself break. Instead of responding, Niall closed his eyes and stroked the former Dark King's cheek, allowing the softness of his fingers to soothe Irial's feverish skin.

Irial turned his face toward Niall's palm, his logy eyes staring up at him with a gratitude that Niall did not deserve. Beads of sweat coated Niall's thumb as he traced Irial's mouth.

Then, Irial let out a breath and lowered his eyelids, his black lashes brushing just above his cheekbone. "You will be an excellent king, Gancanagh. And you will lead them down the right path."

Despite the numbing pain in Niall's chest after Irial had spoken his fears aloud, Niall didn't let it show- _Couldn't._ He resumed the soothing stroke of his fingers, resumed counting the innumerous lashes that rested on Irial's pallid cheeks, even though tears welled in his own eyes.

And when he leaned down to kiss his beloved on the crest of his forehead, Niall knew he was kissing him goodbye.

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	4. Chapter 4

Niall did not remember when he'd drifted into sleep, nor did he even remember lying down. But somehow, he'd found himself in the dreamscape again.

He was in a large room with a rain-trodden window and a lush carpet not unlike the kind that graced his bedchambers. But despite the similarities to past places he'd been, the room left him will a feeling of unease and nausea. The metallic smell of decay laced his nose as the persistent rain attacked the solitary glass window.

Panic made his heartbeat hasten. He couldn't exactly pinpoint it, but there was a strange dullness permeating the dreamscape room around him; it left him with an odd discomfort that no other dream had.

Then he realized why the dream felt so empty and barren.

_Irial. Where is Irial? _The former Dark King was nowhere to be seen.

Niall spun around sharply, the blood draining his face as he searched for his beloved. Trembling, he yelled, "Irial!"

Piercing echoes of his frightened voice greeted him in return.

He tried again, hoping that his screams weren't in vain. "Iri!" Tears pierced his eyes as the walls returned his pleas.

Then he heard a quiet voice, barely audible, say, "I'm over here. Calm down."

Turning his head sharply in the direction of the voice, he found Irial lounging (if it could truly be called that) on a small divan in the corner of the vast room, his pale face and feverish skin stark against the black leather of the seat.

Niall glared at him, his eyes brimming with tears. "Why didn't you answer me when I first called you?" he scowled. "You had me worried."

In a threadbare voice, Irial said, "I'm not in the proper form to shout quite yet, love."

Niall shook his head, feeling like a selfish fool for having scolded his ailing adviser. Of course Irial wasn't able to shout. _He was dyi_- Niall refused to finish that sentence, even in his thoughts. _I haven't given up on him yet. There is still a way._

"Yes", Niall responded, approaching the sickly Dark King. "I know. My apologies."

As Niall came closer to Irial's waning form, it became increasingly evident that the former Dark King was in no shape to strain or make a fuss. _Or stand for that matter._

Irial had grown much paler than he'd been in the waking world, and although he still had body muscle, he looked far less imposing than usual. He rested in a complacent, seemingly nonchalant way; his thinning arms folded across his breadth of wide chest and resting his his lap. Never before had Niall seen Irial like this; so weak and unintimidating.

It frightened him.

Holding back the tears in his throat, Niall, placed his hand on Irial's folded one, running his finger along a noticeable vein. With a shaky smile and a deep breath he said, "I rather dislike the current scenery, don't you?"

When Irial simply nodded, Niall changed the dreamscape; removing the cold, dreary room and solitary divan and replacing it with a roaring fireplace and a mountainous bed overflowing with pillows.

As Irial lay on the soft bed, a sad smile crept onto his face. He looked to Niall and said, "I recall this room. From my memories. It used to be mine."

Sitting on the bed beside him, Niall said, "Yes. I thought you would remember it."

A time immeasurable passed as Niall simply stared down at his beloved, taking in his graceful features with ease; Irial's tender eyes and parted lips reminding Niall of the faery he'd fallen in love with so long ago. And despite his currently sickly port, Irial was still beautiful in Niall's eyes. He always would be. _That has never changed._

With gentle fingers, Niall caressed his mouth, enjoying the warmth of Irial's breath on his palm. The even breathing reminded him to stay strong, to never give up hope. It told Niall that his Iri was still alive and breathing and that nothing could take him away.

Irial was the first to break the tender silence. His brows grew low as he said, "Niall, you need to let me go."

Startled, Niall glared down at him, snatching his hand away from Irial's face. "Not now", he ground out. "No. We're not discussing this now."

"Then when will we discuss it, Niall?" Irial hissed in the strongest voice he could manage, his black, pain-ridden eyes nearly screaming at Niall.

"Not now", Niall pleaded, even though he didn't sound like he trusted his own voice. "I plan on fetching more healers. The others were wrong; imbeciles. They didn't know how to properly treat your condition. But let's not worry ourselves with talk-"

"Then when?" Irial pressed, his voice weary. His lips formed a hard line. "When I'm finally gone? What will it take to make you see that I'm dying, Niall?"

Standing up from the bed abruptly, Niall glowered at Irial, his body trembling with emotion. Sobs laced his broken voice. "Don't you think that I know that?!" he hollered, unable to control his feelings of anger and guilt and anguish. Then more gently, he said, "I won't give up on you, Iri. I can't. I'll keep looking. I'll find the right healer…"

From his position on the bed, Irial said in the strongest voice he could manage, "No, Niall. My body cannot recover from this. Even _you _can't stop it. If it were possible to stop time, I'd believe it of you. It's not." At the bleak, hopeless expression on Niall face, Irial whispered, "Please see that."

For a few moments thereafter, there was only silence. Niall leaned against the wall beside the bed, staring off into an unknown abyss, lost in his own blackened thoughts. Irial merely let out shallow, even breaths as his head rested against the pillows.

Then, stooping beside the bed and stroking Irial's hand, Niall whispered, "I can't do this without you, Iri. I don't have the strength."

Irial turned his head towards the faery in front of him; his King, his beloved, his lover. His eyes shone when he said, "You're much stronger than you think, Gancanagh. You will keep the court strong. You will keep yourself strong. And you will be an excellent king. In my entire existence, there has been no one I've trusted more than I trust you."

Then, with imploring eyes, Irial patted beside him and said, "Now, please rest with me. You can't have strength with exhaustion."

Quietly, Niall sat on the bed and lay beside his former King, embracing him in his arms so as to feel Irial's warmth pressed to his chest. Turning on his hip, he stared at Irial's heavy, darkened lids and full, parted mouth as the older faery drifted into sleep. Sweat slickened black hair caressed the sides of his weary-but-angelic face. And not long after, Niall felt himself drifting away too, the tendrils of the dreamscape slipping through his fingers until all he felt was absolute weightlessness. It was the best sleep he'd had in a long while.

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Niall woke up startled a few hours later. Evening had fallen while he'd slept, and the moon was emitting rays of white starlight throughout the curtained windows. One ray in particular landed on the innocuous image of Irial resting, his black lashes brushing his cheeks as he slept. His slow breathing-

Niall froze, suddenly alarmed to realize that Irial's chest wasn't rising. With a panic, he reached out to touch the male's forehead, only to be rewarded with chilled, dull skin.

Unable to stop the hysterical sobs that arose in his throat, Niall shook Irial's unmoving body, black tears streaming down his face. "Irial! Irial! No, gods no! Please! Irial!"

_I failed him. I failed him. I failed him. I promised myself I wouldn't, but I did. Now he's gone. Gone. Gone. _

Minutes must have gone by as he screamed himself hoarse, as his tears suffocated him, as he became bleary-eyed and frenzied.

"No!" Niall continuously screamed, staring at Irial's expressionless face, unable to comprehend how broken and untethered he felt. Sobs wracked him as he embraced Irial's still form, resting his face on the Dark faery's unmoving chest- hot, angry tears that made it hard to breathe. "Iri!" he croaked with what was left of his voice, "Come back! I'm sorry!"

His pleas were ignored.

In midst of his emotional turmoil, Niall was vaguely aware that Gabriel had entered the room, but was standing back, not speaking a word. Neither were any of the others in the house.

After a time unmeasured, Niall fell silent. He assumed it was because he simply could not cry anymore. So instead of weeping, he sat with his back against the wall and- trembling- lit a cigarette. Plumes of white smoke entered his bloodied lungs, left his dry lips, and watered his reddened eyes. And in those moments, Niall became the darkness he feared for so long, became the demon that haunted his nightmares.

As he stared into the mirror opposite where he sat, taking in his tear-stained skin and lost expression, he became everything he once hated.

* * *

**So I chose to put my note down here to avoid spoilers before you read the chapter. So hopefully, you enjoyed this (it's the last) chapter, even if it is sad- we all knew how it was going to end anyway, unfortunately. I took liberties with the text by recreating the death scene differently than how the book described it, but I do use some of Melissa Marr's dialogue. I'm also sorry it took me so long to write. I wanted this chapter to live up to the other three and for it to not just feel like an add-on where Iri happens to die. Since it's the last chapter, it's supposed to be emotional. So please REVIEW to let me know how you felt when reading it! Thanks readership!**


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